


your day breaks, your mind aches

by Anonymous



Category: Dawn of the Dead (1978)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Fran/Peter if you squint, How Do I Tag, They both deserve a hug, Zombies, just watched this for the first time and i care them so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29915760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Fran and Peter make it out of the mall, but what comes next?
Relationships: Fran & Peter (Dawn of the Dead), Fran/Peter (Dawn of the Dead)
Collections: Anonymous





	your day breaks, your mind aches

**Author's Note:**

> hi i really like horror and i just watched dawn of the dead for the first time like an hour ago and love it very much so sorry this isn’t atla like normal LMAO
> 
> also i wrote this in like 20 minutes half asleep and didn’t proofread it so the characterization IS bad and i am sorry 
> 
> also idk if i should tag this but mentions blood, death, and guns so avoid if those make you uncomfy!
> 
> (yes it’s very stupid and weird to write post canon fics for a 43 year old movie sue me)
> 
> title from “for no one” by the beatles

They made it about 120 miles before they officially ran out of fuel. Farther than either could have hoped for, but still not anywhere significantly safer, like Canada. The streets below them looked vacant. There were some bodies, stray bullets and broken glass, but that fight had completed long before they arrived. It was safe enough. 

Fran was not an experienced pilot by any means, but she was proud. She kept the bird steady and high, making sure to monitor fuel levels and elevation at all times. If he were here, Stephen would’ve given her a smooth smile and a reassuring hand on her shoulder, told her she did good, but Fran couldn’t think like that now. 

Fran’s hands shook as she opened her door and collapsed to the roof of the apartment building they had landed on. It wasn’t exhaustion, but rather a dull grief that had been contained in her for the last hour with no outlet. Fran had been silent as she saw an undead Stephen’s blood splatter against the same door he had walked through alive, just hours prior. She was silent as she grappled with the fact that she was leaving alone, only to realize she wasn’t. Even after Peter and Fran made their daring escape, the only words exchanged between them were about the fuel levels, and nothing else. Both seemed too deep in contemplation, or shock, to speak. The ride was silent, save for the steady hum of the propellers. 

As her hands met pavement and the reality of her situation set in, Fran finally cried. She was conscious of her surroundings, knowing that someone or something could hear her, but she couldn’t bring herself to be silent again. She cried for Roger, for Stephen, for everyone else she knew who had probably perished by now, like her mother and sister. She hadn’t even let herself think of them all that time in the mall. Had they died alone? Were they undead, or had someone already killed them twice? What if they were alive and suffering, while she lived in a lavish, materialistic utopia? What about her co-workers back at the station? Fran buried her head in her hands in shame and misery. 

At least with Stephen, Fran knew for sure he had lived and died. There’s comfort in that. No mystery behind it. 

She was going to die, too, she realized. What else was there to do?

Fran was spiraling and she knew it, but there was nothing she could do. There was no one to ground her. 

Suddenly, she felt a hand on a presence by her side. 

“I checked the building. Empty. I wasn’t thorough, but we can deal with any stragglers if they come up,” Peter said quietly as he sat down next to her. 

Fran looked up at him then, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. 

“Why did you change your mind?” Her question was simple, her voice ragged. 

Peter stared up at the indigo sky, dying from the rising sun, blood red seeping into the ink. For a moment, Fran thought he didn’t know what she meant, until he spoke. “What else was there to do? I thought death would be easier than living to kill these things, but…” Peter paused, looking past her. “Even if we had no fuel, and we were left with no escape on that roof, I would’ve rather died like that than with a Derringer in a locked room while you faced that alone.”

“But, we did have enough fuel. And now you’re stuck here with me, and we’re going to die anyways.”

“Who said that? I’m not dying anytime soon, and neither are you. We’re going to make it, Fran. I just know it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. I just won’t let this all be for nothing.”

Something inside Fran clicks. Roger and Stephen had died trying to protect them. Their sacrifices would be for nothing if she just gave up. It would only serve to help the undead. 

The blue of the night sky grows more and more distant above them as the bleeding sun rises. 

“Then, I guess we have work to do,” Fran says, softly yet determined. 

It’s the dawn of a new, terrifying day, but Fran and Peter are ready. 


End file.
